In My Hands
by TricKarnival
Summary: After blowing his money on a brand new PlayStation 3 and getting evicted from his apartment, Greg Sanders realizes it's time turn his life around. Set after Leaving Las Vegas.


**Summary**—  
After blowing his money on a brand new PlayStation 3 and getting evicted from his apartment, Greg Sanders now needs a place to stay, and all his coworkers have rejected him. Perhaps it is time to turn his life around. Set after _Leaving Las Vegas_.

**Case File**—  
A Jane Doe is found in a swimming pool, and identifying her proves to be a difficult task because just about everybody seems to be lying. It's also Hodges's lucky day.

**Disclaimer**—  
The only thing I own is the fic and my OC (who comes in later). Everything else has been temporarily borrowed.

**Author's Note**—  
So. This is my first CSI fic (actually, this is my first fic _ever_), so... uh, newbie here. It is set after _Leaving Las Vegas_, as I have already clearly stated twice before, so I expect that people who haven't seen the episode yet and don't want it to be spoiled for them are backing off. In this fic, **Keppler DOES NOT exist**. I apologize if any of the characters seem _out_ of character, but I'm not a writer of CSI, so they can't be perfect... which is exactly the reason why I'm looking for some beta-readers! Any volunteers?

By the way, ultimately, this is a GregSara fic.

Anyway, I hope everyone will enjoy reading this fic. The rating is going to change later. For language and... other stuff. ;D Reviews and constructive criticism are all very much appreciated. :3

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Chapter One

"Yes!" he exclaimed in success. Pulling a double shift did have its rewards. After working his butt off on his current case, he'd just reached a major breakthrough, and the police team was on their way to arrest the suspect now. The world was being very generous towards Greg Sanders for these past few weeks, and he was feelin' the love. All right, fine, so there was that civil case, and the problem with finding a lawyer... but he tried to forget about that as he made his way down to the locker room. Other than those things that just bummed him out, everything else was just fine and dandy. He was on a roll, and he wasn't about to stop any time soon. In fact, he really wanted to celebrate his triumph over evil during his break.

He entered the locker room that all the CSIs shared, male and female alike, and he spotted one of his coworkers. This one was also incidentally his crush. She was sitting on the bench, lacing up her work shoes. Her dark brown hair was slightly disheveled, as it always was... but that was one of the many things Greg liked about her—she didn't care about what others thought of her physical appearance, and yet she was still able to present herself in such beautiful way. Greg headed to his own locker—with a little more strut than usual—and started to unbutton his shirt. He sneaked a peek behind him to see if Sara was watching. She wasn't.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat, trying to catch her attention. She looked up at him, just in time to behold an entire eyeful of shirtless Greg. He held a secret smile and made sure that Sara saw his biceps. Yup, our Greg had been pumping iron recently, and he wanted to make sure that all his hard work didn't go to waste. It didn't really show... but he was getting there.

But if Sara was turned on by the sight of him half-naked and the fact that it was only the two of them in the room, she didn't let on. Instead, she just smiled. "How's it going, Greg?" she asked politely.

It was a little disappointing (not to mention hurtful to his male ego), he must admit, that Sara didn't at least blush a tad, let alone jump him right there and then. Maybe she was just really good at hiding it. Well, no point in continuing the show and catch a cold if she wasn't going to put her free ticket to good use. He sighed dolefully and pulled his T-shirt over his head.

"Just taking a dinner break now. After another successful case," Greg replied, unable to keep the pride from sounding in his voice. "Thinking about having a short celebration. Care to join me?"

"Celebrate you doing your job? That's a little narcissistic, don't you think?"

"Well, maybe I just really want an excuse to get wasted with you."

All she did was laugh. It was such a cute laugh.

Why didn't she ever respond to these lines every time he said them? He was always shamelessly flirting with her, but she never flirted back. Maybe it was because she didn't believe he was actually serious about her (he _was_ popular with the ladies, after all). Or maybe it was because she just wasn't interested and was too nice to admit that straight to his face, so she was just turning him down gently. Greg desperately hoped to God the latter was only his crazy imagination. _Of course_. He silently laughed and shrugged it off. His imagination could get pretty _crazy_.

"I'd love to," Sara responded. Greg's eyes lit up and looked at her hopefully. "But I can't. I'm on the clock. And your shift will begin soon, too."

Ooh. Shot down. And he was _so_ close.

"Sorry, Greggo," she continued, sounding genuinely regretful. "Maybe next time. Right now, there's something that I need to discuss. With Grissom."

Oh, yes. And let's not forget about _that_ guy. Gil Grissom—the gray-haired bugman, and also the only thing standing in Greg's way of fully pursuing Sara and asking her out on a real date without having to give a lame excuse to do so. Gil Grissom—Greg's boss, and... Sara's boyfriend. Yes. Her _boyfriend_. Okay, so they never officially "announced" their relationship to the team, but he had always suspected there was something going on between the two of them. Grissom had changed a lot since the year before—Nick and Catherine noticed too. And they agreed that it must have been because he'd gotten himself a _girlfriend_. And since Sara wasn't stomping around like a jealous, PMS monster... that girlfriend must be _her_.

Grissom and Sara may have thought they were masters of the art of secret keeping, but please. They were all _investigators_. It was their _job_ to be observant. But of course, they didn't particularly have to notice too hard to pick up on those looks they kept on giving each other.

There were many reasons why Greg didn't approve of their relationship, and not only because he wanted Sara all to himself. For one, Grissom was way too old for her! Three or four years is okay (like the difference between his age and Sara's)... Hell, maybe even _ten_ years would be okay. But Grissom was _fifteen years_ older... If they were both twenty years younger, that would be illegal.

"Right," Greg said. "Tonight's his last night before his four-week sabbatical. I heard it from Catherine."

Sara nodded and turned away. He guessed that their conversation was over, so he picked up his bag and left. He exited, feeling dejected, and he looked at his feet as he walked. Before he could get very far, he almost bumped into the boss himself.

"Watch it, Greg," Grissom warned him. "I'm sure there's a very interesting specimen on your shoes, but looking at it when you're walking may not be the best idea."

"Sorry, Grissom," he said. "I'll be more careful next time." Grissom nodded and began to walk away before Greg stopped him. "Oh, and uh—have a nice time on your sabbatical."

Grissom looked back for a moment, and then continued walking. Wait a minute... did he just go to the locker room? Sara was still in there, wasn't she?

He knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, especially on his boss and coworker. And even more so when the conversation was a private exchange between two romantic lovers who were trying to keep their relationship a secret. But still! The urge to snoop was too strong to resist.

He shifted a little closer. It was hard to see where the two of them were standing, but their voices were plenty clear enough.

"Hey. My cab's here," Grissom said.

"So, you're going." That was Sara.

"Yeah."

"I'll see you when you get back."

What was that sound in her voice? Sadness? Anger? _Relief_? So maybe that last one was just his wishful thinking. But he was unable to differentiate from which of the first two it was.

A long silence followed. He wondered what they were doing right now. Hugging? _Kissing_? NO WAY. Greg violently shook his head to get that image out of his mind. Grissom and Sara would never do that in the _lab_, where they could be seen by anyone. After trying so hard to hide their relationship, they wouldn't just blow it off by being intimate in the very place where their... well, _intimacy_ was forbidden.

_OR WOULD THEY?_ Love _did_ make people do some pretty stupid things, after all. He'd seen that a lot on this job, what with jealous spouses and creepy stalkers and all... And he, himself, was also a victim. Like that time when he did the Swami impression to entertain Sara. That was a long time ago, but he still couldn't forget it. Never mind that Sara hadn't particularly been in any awe, but he'd also made a huge fool out of himself in front of Grissom. Such a lovely experience.

He just had to have a look for himself. It was a _really_ long silence, and it worried him.

He inched just a little closer to the doorway. He didn't want to _stare_ or anything... just a little peek! That wouldn't do anyone any harm, would it? Suddenly, a mental image of Sara on top of Grissom flashed through his mind. NO. He definitely DID NOT want to see _that_! He changed his mind and was about to leave until—

"I'll miss you."

WAIT, WHAT WAS THAT?!

He snapped his head back, eyes widened in shock. Did Grissom just say what he thought he said? So there was his proof—the two of them really _were_ seeing each other. Grissom would have never said something like that to any one of _them_. Except for Catherine, possibly, but she was different—they'd been friends for a long time. Sara, on the other hand... there'd always been that tension between them. That admission on Grissom's part could only mean one thing. And Greg didn't like it. At all.

Before his imagination could betray him and run wild again, he quickly bolted out of there, running to his car and not even stopping to apologize to Nick when he nearly rushed into him.

He slid into the driver's seat of his Denali and slammed the door shut. Holy crap, what had he just heard back there? He was definitely not supposed to have witnessed that.

That was when he saw a figure in front of his car. A man wearing a black hoodie. He looked no older than in his late teens. The man turned his head and looked at the car, his eyes a sinister, frightening color. Actually, they weren't any color at all. They were just white. He held a heavy rock in his hands and charged towards Greg, about to strike—

Without thinking, Greg slammed down on the gas pedal—

Oh, wait. The car wasn't started. And that was just his imagination. _Again_.

The car had been finished its repairs about a couple of weeks ago since that... fannysmackin' incident. Teenagers these days. What the hell were they learning, and who the hell was teaching it to them? The car may have looked brand new, but he still felt like the windows were broken. Even now, he sometimes had nightmares about that moment. Coming close to death was a pretty tough thing to get out of your mind.

Oh, the angst. Between being served with a civil suit for accidentally killing a man in self-defense, and discovering that his one dream girl had slipped out of his hands and flew into his boss's web... all the stress was too overwhelming for him to handle. Greg Sanders was not a man built for boatloads of such torment to all take in at one time.

Sophia had once said to him in the locker room, "Rumor has it, you used to be a pretty funny guy..."

He turned on the engine and placed both his hands on the steering wheel.

"... Don't lose that."

And he wasn't about to. As he sped out of there with a new determination, he reminded himself that this was the only life he had. He may have gotten older and grown a lot more mature, but it didn't mean he'd forgotten how to have fun. It was time to let loose.

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Half an hour later, he emerged from the front automatic doors of an electronics store with a large plastic bag in his arms and a smile on his face. Yup, apparently, this was Greg's way of having a good time. He skipped merrily to his Denali and placed the heavy bag in the passenger seat. It deserved to sit in the front.

He felt something different as he drove home. Excitement. Hope! At last. He'd finally gotten the guts to do something he'd wanted to do for a long time (ever since it was released, anyway), and it had felt great. Granted, scoring a date with Sara Sidle would have been one hundred times better. But oh, well, beggars can't be choosers. And besides, this was way more than an okay second. Just the thought of getting home and plugging this baby in got his blood pumping.

But no. He still had work after this. It was best if he just went home to set it down, and then come back for it after shift.

Greg's apartment was like a chemical experiment gone horribly wrong. Clothes, leftover food, and weird smells were everywhere. How he was able to find _anything_ in the heaps of junk was beyond anybody. Trouble was, he had trouble detaching himself from his preciousness and throwing all these things away. He wasn't a lab rat; he was a _packrat_.

When he got home, he went directly to the television. Maybe if he just plugged it in... That way, when he came back in the morning, he wouldn't have to waste any time installing it. Yeah, that was a good idea. So he kicked aside a bunch of dirty magazines that he kept for when he was feeling... _lonely_, and a plate of half-eaten Kraft Dinner that'd been there for God-knows-how-long, to make room for his newly purchased item. Then he connected it to his TV in a matter of only ten seconds.

All hail the new PlayStation 3, in its long-awaited, graphically-enhanced, two-point-six billion pixels-per-second glory.

It was beautiful. A truly dazzling vision of gaming splendor. He should really test it out. You know... just to see if it was working okay.

Geez, who was he kidding? _He needed to play_. It was a _crime_ to leave this... angel-made piece of heaven alone. And of course, he didn't want to commit a _crime_. He managed to find his favorite game, _Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas_, under a pile of dirty laundry and placed the disc into the game console.

Oh, he was going to have some _fun_ tonight. Because to be honest... he was still a nerd at heart.

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**Author's Note—  
**I promise, the Sandle-ness will come in later. It starts off kind of slowly now, but it's all for the plot. So, how is it so far? Tell me what you think! If you review, I will give you access to Eric Szmanda's pants—uh, I mean... all my undying love. :D ♥


End file.
